


Made For Me

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Body Modification, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Community: smpc, Humiliation, M/M, Omega Dean, PWP, castration mentioned, toppy Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 23:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: Sam was done with his family. Done with his father’s relentless obsession, and his brother’s blind obedience, and his too pretty for an Alpha face. He was done with it all. Right up until the moment Dean appeared at his door, smelling more like an Omega in heat rather than his out-of-bounds Alpha brother.





	Made For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [somersault_j](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somersault_j/gifts).

> Unapologetically filthy PWP written for the SMPC. And, more importantly this time, for Somer!! Happy Birthday, enjoy the porn!!! ❤️

For the past four years, Sam had told himself he was done with his family. Done with his dad’s Alpha posturing and his relentless obsession. Done with his brother’s blind obedience, and his too pretty for an Alpha face. Done with watching Dean slut around, fucking every cute girl, or guy, willing. Done with wishing he was the one fucking around with Dean. Done with all the damn pining. 

When Sam told them he was leaving they hadn’t even put up much of a fight. Dad certainly hadn’t. John Winchester was a lot of things but he was no fool. Three Alphas in one family, in one car they called home; it was a recipe for bloody-nosed, bruised-rib, disaster. Especially when one of those Alpha’s wanted to bend his equally Alpha brother over and screw his brains out. 

Sure, Dad had grumbled about family and responsibility, but he’d also slipped Sam an envelope stuffed with eight hundred bucks and a burner phone in case of emergencies. 

Dean hadn’t said much of anything. He’d looked at Sam, hurt darkening those stupid green eyes and shrugged. “If that what you want, Sammy. It’ll be good for you, I guess.”

He’d driven Sam to the bus station, hugged him so fiercely, for so long, that Sam didn’t think he’d ever let go. Wasn't sure he wanted him to. Then he stayed right there, standing, hands in his pockets, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, watching the bus leave. Watching Sam disappear into the distance. Sam knows because he watched right back through dirt-clouded windows and tear-filled eyes. 

And college _ has _ been good for Sam. He fits in... kind of... now. It took a while for him to make friends. Things were a little rough at first; too many people, looking up at his broad shoulders and hunt-honed muscles, had pegged him as a football-scholarship jock, or a dick-brained Alpha frat-boy. But now, almost four years down the line, he’s near as dammit graduated, he has a bunch of friends, a part time job, and a pretty Beta girlfriend with gold hair, green eyes and freckles. 

Jess is everything a guy could want. Beautiful, intelligent, kind and fun. She can drink Sam under the table, curse up a storm, and make him laugh so hard he snorts beer out of his nose. 

Sam tells himself he didn’t fall for her because she reminded him so much of Dean, but then he also tells himself every day that he wasn’t in gut-churning love with his big brother. 

Tonight, Sam’s running late, as often happens when he’s been studying in the library, only half dressed, jeans clinging to shower-damp legs and his towel-dried hair sending cold drips of water down his naked back. Jess left thirty minutes ago, friends and vodka shots calling out her name at their usual bar. 

When the shave-and-a-haircut knock raps against the door, he almost thinks it’s her, run back to hurry him up. _ Almost_. Because somehow he knows. His instincts flaring in way they haven’t done for nearly four years: belly somersaulting and hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up like there’s a thunder storm rolling in. 

And Sam should be shocked when he opens the door to find his older brother standing in the hallway. But he knew. He fucking _knew _. 

He _ is _ shocked by how frail Dean looks. How small. More like a scrawny teenager than the dangerous hunter Sam remembers.

His cheekbones are sharp in his face, his eyes huge. His little-boy freckles jumping out painfully against his moon-pale complexion. 

“Fuck, Sammy, did you grow even taller?”

Dean’s smirk is fixed firmly in place, though his eyes lack the conviction of it.

“Gonna invite me in or what, Sasquatch?”

Sam closes his dropped-jaw mouth with a crack of teeth, and swallows, his brain screaming for a moment to reboot. It takes less than thirty seconds of shocked silence for Dean’s cocky facade to disintegrate before Sam’s eyes. The nerves he was hiding now all too evident in the tremble of his fingers, the teeth chewing at his lip. 

By the time Sam does finally regain the power of speech, it’s obvious Dean’s a few seconds away from bolting. His legs don’t look like they could hold him up long enough to reach the bottom of the stairwell, but Sam’s sure Dean’s still stubborn enough to try and make a run for it.

“Dean, _ Jesus,_ what the hell?” 

Sam doesn’t give Dean a chance to reply, or to run, dragging him into his apartment by the scruff of his neck, kicking the door shut and hauling him into a hug, almost engulfing his little big brother in his arms. It’s then that the smell hits him, cloying and sweet, honey-thick desperation. Sam’s dick throbs in his pants, his knot twitching. Hands locked around Dean’s biceps, Sam pushes his brother away just far enough that he can look in his eyes.

“Dean?”

Dean won’t, or can’t, meet his gaze, keeps his eyes lowered like some blushing virgin in a porn flick. 

“Dean!” Sam shakes him this time. There must be bruises blooming beneath his fingers; he doesn’t care. “What’s going on? What...”

Dean shrugs out of Sam’s grip, shoves him hard enough that Sam stumbles backwards. There’s more strength in that lean frame than Sam expected. 

“Calm down, Sammy. I know you haven’t seen my pretty face in a while, but there’s no need to get all handsy.” Dean’s smirk is back, fake as a three dollar bill and worth less. Sam wants to wipe it right off his face. With his fist or his mouth, he’s not sure. 

“Dean,” Sam says again. He didn’t realise how much he missed the weight of his brother’s name on his tongue until right now. “What... where’s Dad?”

It’s not the question Sam wants the answer to, but it’s the easiest one to ask. 

Dean’s lips quirk up, his sneer real, his eyes pained. “Dad... he’s long gone. Hunting somewhere down in Texas last I heard. He’s not so good at keeping in touch these days.”

“You’re on your own?” Sam says, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. He thought Dad was always going to have Dean’s back. He’d hoped anyway. “Hunting?”

Shrugging as though he doesn’t care, Dean rubs his hand across the back of his neck, an anxious tick, and looks somewhere over Sam’s right shoulder. “I’m a big boy, Sam, I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Sam asks, stepping right up into Dean’s space, shoving his bird-bone shoulders until Dean’s back hits the closed door. Sam buries his nose in the curve of his brother’s neck and inhales, rocking back on his heels when the sweet scent of Omega, of Omega in heat, fills his senses. It takes all his restraint not to rub himself up against his brother right there.

“What happened?” Sam asks, lips brushing the side of Dean’s neck.

Dean’s voice is fractured, shaking as violently as his hands on Sam’s biceps. “There was a hunt. People going missing. Dad thought maybe it was a Spring Heeled Jack or a phantom. Except it was humans. Not monsters. Taking people. Hunting them. Butchering them. Or... “

“Or?” Sam presses when Dean falters. 

“Or bitching them.”

“Jesus,” Sam exhales. 

“I was... I was careless. They grabbed me. By the time Dad found me... he couldn't... they’d... it was... it was too late. After... he took me to the hospital. Then he... he left.”

“He left?” Sam hisses. “That asshole.”

Dean pushes Sam away again. Scrubs the palm of his hand across his watery eyes and scowls up at him. “What else was he supposed to do, Sammy, huh? I told him to go. Fuck, I told him to put a goddamn bullet in my brain.”

The room tilts beneath Sam’s feet. His vision swaying. His hands fumble behind him against the door, shoring up his legs. “What? Why?”

Dean looks at him incredulously. “Why? Because I’m broken, Sam. I’m not an Alpha anymore. I’m... I’m an...”

“Omega,” Sam finishes. “You’re an Omega, Dean. And you’re in heat.”

Dean flushes bright red, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not in heat. Not yet. Not full blown anyway. God, I don’t even know why I came here. I’m sorry. I’m gonna leave.”

He’s going nowhere. Sam’s standing in front of the door and Sam isn’t moving.

“No,” Sam says. “You’re in heat. And you came here. Came to find me.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Dean bullshits. “Just let me leave, Sam. I won’t bother you again. I swear.”

“No,” Sam repeats, shaking his head. “I’m not letting you go, Dean. Not again. Not this time.”

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean snaps, stepping towards him, a familiar angry tick in his jaw. “Get out of my goddamn way.”

“No,” Sam snaps right back, hands coming up to defend himself when Dean’s change in posture telegraphs his intent to start throwing punches. They grapple in front of the door, Sam blocking Dean’s wild blows, his hands locking around Dean’s wrists as soon as he spots the chance, sweeping Dean’s legs out from under him a second later. And then they’re both on the floor, Dean pinned below him, his breathing frantic, limbs trembling. His tell-tale scent isn’t sour with fear though, it’s sugar sweet nectar luring Sam in. 

Time stills around them. Dean looks up at Sam with huge come-fuck-me doe-eyes. Sam licks his lips, grinds his hips against his brother’s letting Dean feel the thick bulge of his hard-on.

“You don’t have to do this,” Dean says, a whisper, a plea. One that’s overshadowed by the way he tilts his head, and bares his neck. Submits so beautifully to the only Alpha in the room.

Sam licks a stripe up his brother’s bobbing throat, scrapes his teeth across the side of his neck. “I _want_ this,” he growls in his brother’s ear. “I want you, Dean. I always have.”

The groan that spills from Dean’s lips is inhuman, the buck of his groin against Sam’s deliciously needy. 

“Gonna mark you up,” Sam says, nose nuzzling into the delicate skin behind Dean’s ear. “Gonna mate you. Gonna make you mine.”

And then Sam’s teeth are latching onto Dean’s neck, and the metallic tang of blood bursts across his tongue. One second, two, three, before Sam roughly licks the bite-mark clean and silences Dean’s pained whimpers with his mouth. Shares the coppery taste of blood and brotherhood in a kiss that turns from frantic to filthy in less time than it takes the wound on Dean’s neck to stop bleeding. 

Sam tears blindly at Dean’s clothes, material ripping and buttons hitting the floor, unwilling to drag himself away from Dean’s mouth, already addicted to the taste. Eventually Dean’s the one that snaps his head to the side, pushes Sam’s chest just hard enough to get his attention. “Sam, you don’t have to do this. You have a girlfriend. You—“

“Jesus, Dean, shut up,” Sam growls. He doesn’t want to think about Jess or anyone else right now. All he can think about is getting Dean naked. Seeing all that forbidden skin in the light. He claws at Dean’s clothes until Dean bats his hands away and wriggles out of his near-ruined plaid shirt and the old Metallica tee-shirt underneath. 

“Beautiful,” Sam groans, fingers trailing across Dean’s ribs, over the scars and faded bruises he’s never seen before. Dean whimpers and shakes when Sam tweaks at his nipples, his hands slapping down, open palmed, against the floor. Sam does it again, harder, nastier, watches the pink peaks turns a slutty shade of red, watches his brother’s eyes almost roll back in his head. His scent turning so overpoweringly sweet, so thick, that Sam feels like he’s suffocating. Lust bleeding into his brain, clouding out every other emotion, Sam squeezes his brother’s flat little tits, slaps them and scratches his nails across those sensitive Omega nips, before soothing the hurt with his mouth. Sucking on the hard nubs until Dean’s mewling underneath him, hips rolling desperately up against Sam’s dick. The last flicker of his objections drowning beneath his need to submit. His need for Sam to dominate. 

Dean’s sobs are ringing through the apartment when Sam finally moves on from his tortured titties. His hands pinning Dean’s hips to the floor as he sucks sloppy kisses down his body. “Mine,” he mouths against Dean’s underfed belly, his fingers working at Dean’s belt. 

“Sam,” Dean’s voice turns frantic again, and he squirms as his belt buckle hits the floor. Ignoring him, Sam rips open Dean’s buttons and wriggles the jeans easily down over his skinny thighs. “Sammy, please don’t... “

But Sam can smell Dean’s slick. Can see the evidence of it staining the ass of his jeans, soaking through the threadbare boxers hanging off his hips. “Shut up, shut up,” he chants, mouth salivating and blood pulsing to his dick. A quick tug and Dean’s boxers are tangled around his knees along with his jeans and Sam’s dick is so hard it feels like his knot is going to burst.

“God,” Sam breathes, staring down at his brother. At his hairless crotch. At all the soft milky-white skin. At the place where his balls used to be. At his clipped little dick that’s barely more than a stub. 

“Sammy,” Dean’s full-blown sobbing now, arm thrown over his eyes, bony shoulders shaking, embarrassment written across his body in flashes of red. 

“They really did bitch you,” Sam says, reverence in his tone. He shoves Dean’s thighs apart with his knees, as far as Dean’s legs will go still trapped in his pants. His fingers tracing the angry red scar where Dean’s heavy spunk-filled balls used to hang. Sam’s seen pictures of Omegas with their cherry sized balls and drippy little boy dicks, watched an Omega get pounded by a train of Alpha jocks in a particular dirty porn clip he’d never confess to jacking off to, but he’s never seen this. Never seen a bitch with his balls hacked off and dick butchered down to nothing more than a clit. 

He’s never been more turned on in his life. 

Leaning over Dean, he drags his brother’s arm away from his face, kissing the salt-wet tears from his cheeks like he might die if he doesn’t consume each and every one of them. Licking over the raw claiming mark bitten into the crook of his neck. “Hot. So fucking hot, Dean,” he pants before stumbling to his feet, dragging Dean along with him. 

“Naked,” he growls, “now.” 

For once, thank god, Dean doesn’t argue. Can probably sense how close Sam is to losing his damn mind, his Alpha hindbrain overtaking what little scrap of reason or restraint he had to begin with. They’re both stripped naked by the time Sam pushes Dean through to the bedroom, tossing him down onto the bed. 

The bed that he and Jess made love in that morning. 

Sam flicks away the thought as easily as he manhandles Dean onto his back. He shoves apart Dean’s slick-smeared thighs, pushes up his knees and takes in the sight. “So pretty, just like a girl,” he praises, thumb rubbing against his brother’s scar. He flicks at Dean’s tiny dick, enthralled by how useless it is now. How utterly perfect. 

“Never seen a prettier clit,” Sam says, watching Dean’s face flame red, his Omega slick drooling from his hole and spreading out across the bed sheet. 

Dean, his hero, his older tougher, fuck ‘em and leave ‘em, cocksure big brother looks up at him with wide shocky eyes. Dean’s world must be turned upside down, fucked up and fucked over. Dean’s the one that does the nailing, bends over any willing piece of ass that slides into range. He’s not the one who squirms and whines, spreads his legs like a whore and leaks bitch slick, desperate for a knot in his brand new boy-pussy. 

“You let anyone have you?” Sam asks, trailing his fingers through the slick running down Dean’s smooth thigh, following it right back up to the source; the tiny dark furl that’s soon gonna be speared deep by Sam’s dick. “Did you, Dean? Did you let anyone else shove their dick in your slutty new cunt since you got bitched?”

“No,” Dean chokes out. “No, Sammy. I didn’t. I swear.”

“You came straight here?” Sam asks. “Wanted your kid brother’s knot that bad?”

Dean screws his eyes shut, and let’s out a noise that’s part sob, part affirmation. 

“Good,” Sam says, leaning over so he can kiss Dean’s mouth, nip at the swollen pout of his bottom lip. “No one else gets you now. You’re mine, Dean.”

God, Sam’s missed Dean’s mouth. His pillow-soft lips, forever lipstick-red from Dean chewing on them. At some point soon he’s gonna put Dean down on his knees and feed his dick through that pin-up girl pout, gonna fuck Dean’s mouth until he cries. Gonna come down his throat until his belly is full of Sam’s Alpha come and his mouth is gagged wide around Sam’s thick knot. 

Not now though. Now, Sam’s gonna break open his brother on his dick. After he’s had a taste of his sweet cunt.

He shoves Dean’s knees in the air. “Hold them up. Let me see your pussy, Dean.”

Dean obeys, wordlessly; white-knuckled clutches under his knees, holds his thighs back and gives Sam a show. 

Sam can’t resist dragging his fingertips across the scar again, tracing the ragged line where Dean’s balls used to be. As much as he hates whoever mutilated his brother, hopes his Dad hacked them up into tiny pieces before he burned them to ashes, he can’t say he blames them. Dean was a gorgeous Alpha but he was put on this Earth to be an Omega. 

Sam slaps his fingers down gently on the raised red scar. In a few months, weeks, when the scar is faded pink and pretty, he’s gonna make Dean come just by spanking the empty space where his nuts used to hang and the tiny stump of a dick that’ll never fuck anything ever again. “Goddamnit you’re a beautiful little bitch, Dean,” Sam sighs before burying his face between Dean’s thighs and licking up the slick gushing from his hole. It tastes like heaven. Sam knows it’s supposed to; Dean’s an Omega in heat, he’s supposed to taste as good as he smells to attract a mate, but fuck... it’s like he was designed by God especially for Sam. 

Sam sucks at Dean’s hole, still somehow tight despite how sloppy wet it is, until his face is almost as messy as the inside of Dean’s thighs. He curls his tongue up and fucks it into Dean’s ass before sliding a finger in alongside. Dean opens up beautifully, keening when Sam adds a second finger, scissoring them wide. This is what Dean’s hole is now. Not a vice tight impenetrable Alpha’s asshole, but a bitch’s pussy designed to take the biggest Alpha cock it can find. Sam could punch his fist inside Dean’s hole now if he wanted without doing too much damage. His knot isn’t much smaller to be honest. 

The thought of Dean’s hole spread wide around Sam’s wrist is what breaks Sam’s patience in the end. His nuts are full to bursting and his knot is already starting to swell. He’ll have more time to play with Dean later, but right now he needs to see his brother hanging off his knot. 

“Turn over,” Sam says, slapping his hand down on Dean’s neutered prick. Dean yelps, but the bow of his spine and fresh squirt of slick from his pussy is more honest. “Jesus,” Sam says, pinching the cute little cut-off dick between his thumb and middle finger just to see Dean arch up into his touch, and hear his squeals. “You’re gonna kill me, big brother. But if I don’t get inside you right now I’m gonna bust a nut.”

The second that Sam release his button dick, Dean scrambles onto his knees, shoving his face into the pillows and his ass into the air. If Sam’s fuck-mate-claim instincts hadn’t already driven him past the point of reasoned thought, he’d take some time to appreciate the view. To soothe Dean’s trembling muscles. To kiss the fresh bite mark in his neck. To whisper in Dean’s ear all the words of love he was never brave enough to voice when he was younger. When they were both Alphas. When the most they could ever be was brothers. Later, he promises himself. They’ll have all the time in the world, later. 

Now he needs to mate his bitch. Fingers digging into Dean’s asscheeks, Sam spreads his Omega’s hole wide and nudges his blood-thick dick inside. The slip-slide of slick easing the way better than lube ever could. Sam grunts his relief at finally sinking into the heat of brother’s cunt. It’s like coming home for the first time. Like discovering the meaning of goddam life. 

Dean’s whimpering high in his throat and scrabbling at the bed sheet as Sam slides into his ass. “Perfect,” Sam groans when he’s balls-deep. “Such a perfect Omega. Made for me, Dean, weren’t you? Made just for me.”

“Yeah,” Dean pants, wriggling on Sam’s dick like he’s trying to take it even further inside himself. “Made for you, Sammy.”

“My pretty bitch,” Sam says, letting go of Dean’s peach-flesh ass, grasping his waist with one hand and tangling his fingers in Dean’s hair, forcing his head back with the other. “What do you want, Dean? Tell me?” 

“You, Sammy, just want you.” Dean whines, heat addling his brain, frying his senses, turning him into the neediest slut Sam’s ever dreamed of. 

“What do you want me to do?” Sam asks, grinding his hips against his brother’s ass, teasing them both. “Want me fuck you, baby? Want me to knot your new pussy? Tell me. Let me hear you say it. I need to hear you say it, Dean.”

“Please,” Dean begs. “Please, Sammy. Do it. Fuck me. Knot me.”

And that’s what Sam’s waiting for. Dean’s permission. His submission. But still he doesn’t move. Because he wants more. Because something dark inside of him wants his bigger than life, macho brother to admit what he is now. 

Sam tugs Dean’s hair, the strands silky soft in his hand, keeps his voice just as soft, cajoling. “Fuck what, Dean? Tell me. Knot what?”

Whimpering, Dean tries to fuck himself back on Sam’s dick. Letting Dean’s hair fall through his fingers, Sam reaches below his brother and slaps his butchered dick. “Come on, now, big brother, tell me. Tell me what you are, what you need, or I’ll never touch your sweet little clit again after tonight.”

Dean shudders and Sam swears he can hear the racing desperation of his heartbeat. “I’m a ... a neutered bitch, Sam. I’m your bitch. And I need you to fuck my... my pussy, Sam. Please, please, I need you knot my slutty Omega cunt.”

“That’s a good boy,” Sam says, grinning. He eases his hips back until only the mushroom head of his dick is resting past his brother’s rim. Then he slams back in. Pushes the air from Dean’s lungs and a keening noise from his lips that sets Sam’s blood on fire.

There’s no holding back after that. Sam couldn’t if he wanted to. He pounds into Dean like he’s trying to possess him. Doesn’t hold back. Not like he has to with Jess. Like he has to with anyone else he’s ever screwed around with. This is different. This is Dean. His omega. His mate. He can take all of Sam. He will. 

Sam has to hold his brother up, fingers digging into his skinny hip bones, as he slams into him over and over. Dean meets every thrust of Sam’s with an eager tilt of his ass and a squeeze of his pussy. It’s incredible, fucking life-changing, Sam wants to pound into Dean all night long, but his knot’s swelling rapidly and a telltale ripple of pleasure is spreading from his balls right up to the tips of his ears. 

Dean’s gasping for breath, back arched and limbs trembling when Sam fucks into him one last time, his orgasm crashing through him like a car wreck and his knot catching tight inside Dean’s cunt. 

Dean must come at the same time like a good Omega slut because his hole clenches down around Sam’s dick, his muscles seizing and little cocklet dribbling one runny bead of spunk before he slumps boneless onto his belly. Sam follows him down, shaking from the orgasm still coursing through his body. Dean’s perfect new pussy squeezing around his dick, milking every last drop of come from Sam’s balls. 

Sam’s only knotted Jess a few times. Birthday and Special Occasions. Even then he’s always been terrified of hurting her. This is different. For once he feels completely sated. Like for the first time in his life he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, doing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. 

“Heavy,” Dean complains, squirming underneath him. 

It takes all of Sam’s energy to roll onto his side, Dean coming with him whether he likes it or not, hanging from his knot in a way that makes Sam’s inner Alpha crow. 

“Okay?” Sam asks, still breathless, though his brain is starting to come back online. 

Dean’s reply is barely audible, sleep already dragging him under now that he’s stuffed full with a knot, his belly swelling with come, his heat satisfied for a while at least. 

Sam doesn’t know how he’s going to explain this to Jess. When he’s thinking rationally and not buried inside his brother he’ll probably care more. And he’ll probably regret letting his asshole Alpha get carried away with the dirty talk later too, because Dean’s likely to kick his ass. Or try to anyway. He’s a little scrawny to do too much damage to Sam. 

Now he’s just going to wait for his knot go down enough so he can do it all again. Maybe this time he’ll make Dean ride him so he can play with his little clit, flick it and pinch it and... fuck, Sam drops his head down into the valley between Dean’s sharp-edged shoulder-blades and breathes deep. He’s never gonna get soft again at this rate. 

Turns out he isn’t completely done with his family after all. Not when family is the prettiest nutless Omega this side of the border. 

  
  
  
  
_Finis_  
Thanks for Reading! 


End file.
